He Heard Hannah – An Interview and Giveaway from one who shared our grief

He Heard Hannah

I never knew Anna, yet her life and her death have impacted my life beyond words.

In 2007 and 2008 as we struggled through surgery after surgery with our little girl, Emily, Anna’s parents, Kyle and Lynnette Kraft, walked beside us, recounting their own numerous hospital stays with Anna.  They brought us food and comfort.  They offered respite and normalcy in a sterile world.  We sang and laughed and lived the best we could.

The morning Emily passed away, I dialed Lynnette’s number through tears and raw emotion.  I will never forget her scream on the other end of the line as she grieved for us as only a mother who knows exactly how painful it is to lose a child can.

It was Kyle and Lynnette who drove us home that bitter February day.  It was Kyle and Lynnette who gave voice to what we needed to plan a funeral, to plan a life without our precious daughter.

It was Anna who taught them how to minister to us.

But we are not the only ones Kyle and Lynnette have ministered to.  There are countless others, including the 911 dispatcher who took their call the night their daughter died He Heard Hannah is that story.

Courtney Becker

As I read Lynnette’s book, I found myself praising God that He can take the pain and sorrow of death and bring forth new life.  I found myself renewed as a mother.  And I wondered…how would God take my own pain and use it to His glory?

Lynnette

Many of you know Lynnette from her blog or from Emily’s Story, but I wanted to do something I had never done before…have her speak to all of you here at Raising Arrows.  I want you to hear firsthand from the woman who was the very hands and feet of Christ four years ago.  I wanted you to hear her message of hope.

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Amy:  As a blogger who writes about what it is like to lose a child, I often hear moms say, “I could never survive what you’ve gone through.”  What thoughts could you share with those mothers who fear what you have lived through?

Lynnette:  I have been told many times, “You are so strong! I could never make it through that sort of loss.” I’ll be honest it’s very difficult to provide a verbal response to that sort of statement.  What I found myself thinking was You haven’t see me when I’m by myself. I can’t go through something like this either.

I remember watching Oprah when my first child was only a baby. It was a show about SIDS (Sudden Infant Death Syndrome). I remember thinking I could NEVER go through something like that! In fact, just watching the show created a sort of looming fear.

The thing is, nobody can go through tragedy and heartache in their mind alone – in a sort of alternate reality. If you are in that place of suffering, you simply have no choice.  You go into survival mode and you look for a safe way through it.

In my case, the strength found for that healing came through my personal relationship with Jesus Christ.

Amy:  How has writing helped you heal?

Lynnette:  I never considered myself anything other than a hobby writer, yet when I was going through the pains of loss I found myself journaling to cope. I wrote down irrational emotions, and desperate prayers and also penned scriptures that provided me with hope.

I believe my instinctive desire to write came from my desperate need to hope and heal… but eventually that blossomed into a desire to share the miraculous result of that journey – my victory!

God has done overwhelmingly big things in my heart and life. I don’t dare keep them to myself!  Psalms 96:3 “Declare his glory among the nations, his marvelous deeds among all the peoples.”

Amy:  What advice do you have to women who have friends dealing with the loss of a child?

Lynnette:  How can you tenderly touch the life of your friend through her pain?

Love on. Pray for. Touch gently. A mother who has lost a child is a tender and fragile woman.

  • She needs words of kindness: “I love you.” “I’m praying for you.”
  • She needs to hear you say her child’s name. Don’t be afraid.
  • She needs tender, physical touch (the amount a person needs depends on the person, but all mommies who have lost a child, need it – because they are missing the physical touch of their child).
  • She needs you to ask her permission. Don’t take liberties when it comes to her child. (Such as removing her child’s belongings or removing her child’s name from something like a directory.)
  • Don’t offer too much counsel unless you’ve been there and know the road well.  *Scriptures that are safe and helpful to share are ones of hope and encouragement.
  • Do whatever your friend needs you to do.  Needs will vary based on individual circumstances. Observe, do and assign tasks to others. Just meet her needs (including the needs of her family) until she can do it herself.

Amy:  How has the path you have walked shaped who you are today as a mother, as a wife, as a friend?

Lynnette:  My journey has changed me. I can’t even begin to tell you all of the ways. It was as if I was destined to be the person I am now, but never could have made my way without the heartaches. I am not bitter in any way. I love God more. I am more devoted to His service. I love people with more fervor. God has used heartache to change me for the better in every way. Hallelujah!

Amy:  What is your vision for He Heard Hannah?

Lynnette:  My vision came quickly – and is what inspired me to write this book.

I want He Heard Hannah to remind Christians that God is always at work even when we aren’t aware! I want Christians to get excited about their faith! I want Christians to search for the hidden things of God.

I want people who don’t know Jesus Christ as their personal Lord and Savior to see hope for themselves. I want them discover, as Courtney did, “The God of the Kraft family” – a faithful and true God.  Courtney’s transformation is for anyone and everyone willing to open their heart and mind to Jesus. Sharing redeeming Love and true Hope is the greatest privilege of my life.

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My dear readers, here is your opportunity to own a copy of He Heard Hannah by Lynnette Kraft!  You will be blessed!
{Email readers, please click over to the post to enter the giveaway.}

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How Will My Miscarriage Affect My Children?

daughter

She said, “I hope what happened last time, doesn’t happen again.”  I smiled into those flannel gray eyes and said, “I know, honey.”

There are no guarantees and heartache is something no one is immune to.  But, my children do not live in fear.  In fact, you would never be able to tell by looking at our happy little family that anything tragic had ever happened to us.

It’s not that my children don’t grieve and remember.  It’s the fact that joy supersedes that grief and the happy memories outweigh the sad.

Today, you can find me at Raising Homemakers talking about The Impact of Miscarriage on Our Daughters.  Will you leave your children a legacy of sorrow or one of victory?

Four years ago.

Emily December 2007

I asked Ty one day if I would ever stop missing her.

And as I sit here still waiting to miscarry, other thoughts plague me.  When I wrote Enjoying YOUR Quiverfull, it was something I needed to hear.  I still need to hear it.  I still find myself wanting more children in an unhealthy way.  A way that seeks to “replace” the one I lost.

Because I never will stop missing her.

And I will NEVER have the right amount of children. (<— and that post still makes me cry)

And truthfully, I don’t feel like a large family.  I am facing my second miscarriage in a row and I wonder if the Lord will ever bless again and I know I can never bring the one back that would bring my number of living children to 7 (which somehow sounds so much “larger” than 6) and I wonder am *I* enjoying MY Quiverfull?  And do I have any validity when it comes to talking about being a large family.  There are multitudes out there with many, many more children than I have who could give you much better advice on running a large family household.  Who am I?  But, there I go again…playing the numbers game.

It’s been a rough few months leading up to the 4th anniversary of Emily’s passing.  Some days I am an emotional train wreck.  (I can say that and know that you will all still love me.)  But, the moments of wreckage come and go and for the most part, I am fully sane and mostly functioning (although the pregnancy hormones have done a number on my sacroiliac joint and my blood sugar).

And I refuse to live a life of wreckage.

Emily’s life and death are not the end.  Everything that happens to me while on this earth is not the end.  It makes no sense as a Christian to spend my life looking back and considering all that is behind me as wreckage.  All that is behind me has created the path that is before me.  And it is a good path…God says so.

I just have to keep walking.

Thoughts as I wait…

{Dear Readers – I wrote this post this past weekend.  I miscarried this morning.  However, I thought I would still share these thoughts.  Thank you so much for your prayers.  We have truly been blessed through them all.}

I draw up a hot bath.

I drink that extra cup of coffee.

I turn my thoughts back toward losing weight and healing my diastasis.

and I wait.

This is my third miscarriage.  My last one was over 8 years ago.  I’ve had 5 children since then.  I’ve had an in-my-arms child die since then.  I am not the same person.

The miscarriage 8 years ago angered me.

I felt robbed.

so much I had to learn.

Now I learn how to stop looking for pregnancy symptoms and start looking for miscarriage symptoms.

Now I learn to wait patiently for a timing I do not know.

Baby has been gone for nearly 3 weeks.  I have known for less than 1 week.  And I wonder…

how much longer.

I began blogging long after my other miscarriages.  I’ve mentioned them in passing, but never have I blogged through a miscarriage.  I never really considered that The Grieving Mother would turn her heart this direction again…the direction of the loss of an unborn child…again.

It is different.

I saw a little heartbeat and a tiny form, but I did not hold this baby, nurse this baby, brush back wisps of hair on this baby.

This is a different shade of grief.  This grief mourns one I did not know.

Was it a boy?  That longed-for baby girl?  Brown hair or blond hair?  Blue eyes or flannel gray?  I will not know this side of heaven.

But for the first time, I am peaceful.

I’ve never experienced this kind of peace in light of a loss.  It is your prayers, I am sure.

Your prayers…and a God who has been faithful through some of the worst pain a mother could ever experience.

Yes, I am different.  I know life and I know death.

And I know Who holds the future.

There is Beauty in the Ashes

This coming November I will be speaking at the Replenish Online Marriage Conference.

My topic?

Why Us, Lord
When tragedy strikes your marriage

Our marriage has had its fair share of events you might call tragedies, but nothing compares to the day we lost our daughter Emily.  Three and a half years later, I can honestly say there is beauty in the ashes of grief.

A lot of people do not seem to understand that.  They look at us and wonder how we could ever have healed from her death.  Yet, they cannot help but notice there is joy.

A little over a year ago, a young woman contacted me asking if I would permit her to choreograph a dance in honor of Emily.  I am always humbled and thankful when people mention my precious little girl and carrying on her memory in the name of Jesus Christ.  What she created from the gifts the Lord has given her was absolutely beautiful and I wanted to share them with you.

Rehearsal Video:
{click here if you cannot see the video}

Recital Night:
{click here if you cannot see the video}

The friends portrayed in the dance are real people. They are people like my dear friend, Sarah.

It was Sarah who cared for my other children that awful day.  It was Sarah who came to the emergency room unaware of what had just happened.  It was Sarah who sat beside me, listened on the phone and talked to me via the internet countless hours as I poured every ounce of myself out trying to make sense of it all.

And they are people like Lynnette who walked this road before me and walked this road alongside me.

She was there with coffee, notes of encouragement, and hope.  Hope that I would not always feel like this.  Hope that someday I would dance again.

People often wonder what they can do to help someone who grieves.  Watching the video above, you will see the answer.  You pick them up when they fall, you walk alongside them when they are weak and when they are strong, you rejoice.

And you look for beauty.

It is there.

And for those who grieve, do not despair when you see glimpses of beauty, wondering if it is okay for you to find your way back to happiness again.

It is.

We smile. We laugh. We live.

And it is beautiful.

And next thing I knew…

it was 4 years later.

Emily as a newborn

4 years since that 4th of July afternoon when little Emily came into this world.

Emmy & big sis, Megan

And pictures that I have never shared here before bring comfort and a smile.

Thanksgiving with Emily

And I read through the three other birthday posts I have written…

Happy Birthday, Little One

A Day to “Celebrate”

When My Readers Bring Me to Tears

realizing every step of this journey has been different.  Every day is different.

I miss her.

Terribly.

I long for another girl.

My innocence is lost.

Forever.

But, time marches on.

Four years away.

Four years closer…